


Build you up, Break you apart

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha Charles, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, Dubious Consent, Fighting, Fingerfucking, Heat Cycles, Lots of Sex, M/M, Manhandling, Metal bondage, Omega Erik, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Powered AU, Rape, Rimming, Sex, Shameless Smut, Wrestling, dub-con, kink of kinks, mild bondage, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles makes quick work of rolling them over again so that he is once more on top of Erik. This time when Erik reels back to throw a punch, he finds himself immobile. With outstretched fingers, he reaches for the familiar sensation of metal particles but nothing comes to him and Erik’s pupils dilate, a frightening thought waking in its place. No one’s coming to rescue me. </p><p>In which Erik is an omega who takes heat suppressants despite the fact that they don't really work well. And on that one day he decides to stay over at Charles' place, his heat cycle starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build you up, Break you apart

**Author's Note:**

> An excuse to write Top Charles and Bottom Erik, with lots of fighting, wrestling, dirty talking and mild bondage. 
> 
> **Warnings:** There is dub-con in this story that borders on rape. If you aren't comfortable with this I'll advise you to turn back now. Please approach this fic with caution.
> 
> Notes: I've taken out knotting because I am unfamiliar with the anatomy. There will be mostly heat and scenting in this story. 
> 
> Beta-ed by not_who_we_are who is ever thorough. Thank you, love.

“Come on Erik, it’s a Friday night! And you promised we’d go to the pub today, here I even have it recorded in my mobile phone,” Charles begs, his hands clasping together. He’s already finished his portion of papers for the night, but Erik insists on finishing the last few of his own so that he can take the weekend off. Charles on the other hand is absolutely done for the moment. He couldn’t care less about spending his weekends holed up alone marking his student’s papers. He prefers the attention he can give to each individual paper when he has full concentration, while Erik wants nothing more than to get it all over and done with.

“I only promised you because I wasn’t actually listening. That’s against the law of contract, I was practically forced into an oral agreement when I wasn’t actually paying attention. So in actual fact, the ‘contract’ isn’t valid,” Erik says, sternly. “And besides, I want my weekends, even if you don’t. I’m not you, I don’t need all seven days of the week reminding me how fuck stupid my students are.”

“Well it’s not their fault they suddenly had a paper to sit through, I mean I wouldn’t have done well myself without any preparation whatsoever.” Charles’ voice rises in pitch; he tended to do that when he was trying to reason with Erik about something that wasn’t likely to be acknowledged or accepted..

“Yeah well it’s not mine either. I’m not the one who decided it was all right for a fucking exam first thing on a Friday morning. Do they even have the right to do that? I’m the one teaching this god forsaken class; shouldn’t I know beforehand if there’s going to be an exam?” Erik swears again and crosses out one of the answers on the paper with such agitation his pen almost tears through it. He scribbles something almost unreadable at the bottom of the page. On a closer look, it seems to say: _Don’t you ever study you idiot._

Poor child.

Erik starts, “And we all know you’d ace any test whether or not you knew about it beforehand, so don’t even try to tell me these kids have a reason to do so badly.” He crosses another answer and Charles feels the metallic paper weight quaking on the table, echoing Erik’s burgeoning irritation.

Erik hears Charles sigh, sees him run his fingers through his hair and feels a stab of unneeded guilt. This was supposed to be a day off, their first night out in a while. Where they’d go down to the pub, chat with everyone and anyone and then Charles would leave with a stranger on his arm and Erik would go home to sleep the whole thing off. And yet here they were, at Charles’ apartment, which was the closer of the two to the university, not going out and getting themselves pissed drunk. Erik isn’t Charles, he can’t go around flirting with complete strangers, if he got any closer with anyone, physically, they’d be able to smell him. The heat suppressants worked, but they weren’t _that_ great. He didn’t need anyone realizing he wasn’t actually an Alpha. It would spoil that intimidating, tough Alpha image that he had so painstakingly built over the years.

“Even so, I do still believe it’s not their fault. You have to admit, the standards of the engineering papers these last few years have been increasingly difficult. you can’t blame them for how they’re scoring when everyone else is scoring the same bloody marks,” Charles says, hands moving about as he speaks.

Erik feels the gentle words of _take a break, let’s go out, have fun,_ swirling in his mind. He doesn’t bother looking up when he murmurs, “Get out of my head, Charles.”

 _You, for one, will never find an excuse for students who don’t study or aren’t prepared,_ Erik thinks at Charles. The other man obviously picked up the thought for he moves his chair back and sighs.

“Well if you’re not going anywhere to night then I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. I’ll be in my room watching adorable cat videos on YouTube and if you’d like, you can come join me.” Charles practically sashays out. Erik doesn’t have to be a telepath to know Charles is sorely disappointed. The sense of remorse inside him grows, but he swallows it down and brushes it aside. Sometimes, he wonders how Charles ended up the Alpha while acting the way he does, and yet he himself has the sad fate of an Omega. And the fact that Erik actually has the more aggressive mutation, while Charles has the more passive one—life just wasn’t fair.

*

It’s a quarter past one when Erik’s halfway through his third to last paper; it’s covered with more angry scribbles and red marks then he’s ever needed to write before. He stops to push away from the table for a stretch, twisting his body from side to side and hearing the bones pop. Pausing to reach for the cold cup of tea Charles so kindly brewed for him, he sighs and leans back, head resting against the top arch of his roller chair.

He’s almost done with the papers. There’s just a little bit more and then he can go to sleep, wake up tomorrow, go home, shower up and head to the gym. Maybe he’ll drop by the library on Sunday, pick up something to read. At night he could cook up a simple meal and end it all off with a cigarette between his lips, the filtered smoke pouring into his lungs, running through his bloodstream. Oh, that’d be nice, that’d be really—

A sudden shudder runs through him and his thoughts slam to a halt, a gasp falling from his lips. The pen slips from his fingers and hits the carpeted floor with a muted thud. God, what the hell was that? Something moves in the air, small little statics dancing through dust. It would almost go unnoticed except for the fact that it sort of makes Erik want to curl in on himself and hide away, press his body into the soft sheets of his bed to soothe the uneasiness in his chest. It’s like an itch beneath his skin that won't go away. Bringing his thumb and index fingers up, he massages the bridge of his nose, and lets out a heavy breath. He must be more tired than he thought, age was certainly catching up with him. Maybe it was the beginning of a cold.

Erik flexes his fingers and calls the metal tipped pen to him. It doesn’t take long for him to dive into his papers again. He’s almost done with his last paper when the door to Charles’ room creaks open, the scraping of the wooden door against the carpet floor a scratchy, ominous sound. Charles is barefoot. His soft footsteps send tiny shivers into the floor, into the metal pipes that run below, allowing Erik to easily gauge his friend’s position without ever needing to break his concentration from work. Charles is by the kitchen doorway, sniffing for something.

“Do you smell that?” His voice is hoarse, like he had slept for hours with his mouth open.

“Smell what?” Erik asks, glancing up for only a second. Charles has stripped off his waist coat but is still wearing the white dress shirt he wore to work earlier. He’s changed into a pair of jeans, the same pair he often wears at home, without a belt. They ride low on his hips, threatening to fall off at the first misstep.

“That smell, that really… really…” Charles drifts off, eyes closed, head tilted upwards as he follows a scent that doesn’t exist, his person going from one end of the room to the other. “…Really intoxicating smell.”

Erik scoffs, “Are you sure you’re watching the right type of videos online? The last I checked, cats couldn’t hypnotize people from beyond the computer screen.” Erik looks up now, rolls himself around just in time to catch Charles drawing the balcony door curtains. Under the soft glow of moonlight, he properly sees the expression Charles has, and cannot comprehend why it frightens him. Charles is an explosion of eagerness caught under a sleep dazed spell. He has never seen the expression on him before and Erik finds that it terrifies and excites him all the same.

“Charles, are you alright?” Erik asks out of genuine concern because that half sleepy look he previously had is now gone, replaced by voracious excitement and something akin to a predator on the hunt. Charles emits a rumble from his chest which Erik keenly hears from where he is seated. Erik stills, a momentary fear bubbles deep inside him and grows larger with every second his sight remains glued onto Charles. Oh god. Oh god, no.

“God, Erik, it’s there, can’t you smell it? Don’t tell me you can’t cause that’d be ridiculous—just breathe it in, there…” Charles follows the scent, closes his eyes and breathes, lets it permeate his lungs entirely. “It’s so strong. So very strong and wonderful and so… ready.” Charles walks towards Erik, his footsteps inch closer and closer until—

“It’s…”

A visible shiver runs down the length of Charles’ body and when his eyes snap open again, his pupils are blown wide; a ring of oceanic blue barely visible under the dim light of the table lamp. Erik bites back his whimper, fingers clutching tight into the fabric of his trousers.

“It’s you?” Charles frowns, lightly shaking his head and blinking in puzzlement. “I don’t understand, how is this possible? How can it—how is it coming from you?”

Charles looks so confused and Erik has the urge to simply grab his things and run. Instead, he says, “I can explain, I never really meant for you or anyone to—” and then his voice has to give out on him and he cracks, stopping his sentence midway.

Erik can’t breathe. It's embarrassing, the way Charles stares at him like he’s something to be devoured, something small and vulnerable; defenceless. Erik wants to punch that bewitched expression off Charles’ face, make it known to everyone that he isn’t one to be fucked with, whether or not he was in heat. He has self-control, and he isn’t going to let Charles or anyone take that away from him.

“I had no intention of letting you or anyone else find out. No one was supposed to know and people don’t usually ask anyway. They take one look at me and assume I’m an Alpha, and I just never bother to correct them,” Erik says, each word perfectly articulated and not a trace of stumble in his speech.

He hopes Charles will get the hint and back off; it would save him the trouble of bruising Charles’ pretty face to snap him out of it. Tiresomely, Charles doesn’t seem at all fazed. If anything the wicked grin he gives Erik is an obvious sign that Charles is highly intrigued by the idea that he is slowly beginning to wrap his head around.

 _Erik is an Omega. How could I not know? How has he hidden this from me all this while? A secondary mutation?_ Charles’ control on his powers is slipping. He’s projecting the way he does only when he’s dead drunk. And then Erik hears, _An Omega. Erik is an Omega, and in heat. Beautiful. Beautiful and wonderful and ready to be fucked._

Erik gasps at the roar of emotions that slams into him with that last vulgar word so crisp and crude in his head. The desire and adoration Charles feels for Erik—the sudden realization of how ready Erik is, a mental image of him twisting and wild underneath Charles, face turned away from embarrassment and shame as Charles licks into the hollow of his collar bone, Erik’s fingers clawing into the sheets, panting and gasping Charles’ name as Charles breaks him apart. Charles wants him, wants to claim him.

Erik shudders. Just as quickly, he’s seething and his teeth grind together forcefully. His sweat causes the clothes to stick to his body and he’s so aware of how completely flushed red he must be by now that he dares not look up. And then Charles prowls towards him and towers over him, traps him in his chair; Erik has never felt so small. Erik’s body involuntarily begins to produce slick, he feels a little slide out from him and his lower half aches for touch. It takes every fibre of self-control not to squirm in his seat from the discomfort he feels.

Charles might have been the bright, kind gentleman everyone knew him as, but in the presence of an Omega currently in heat, he was no different from any other Alpha: an animal with a lack of restraint and sense of personal space. Charles dips his head down, presses his face into the crook of Erik’s neck, just below his ear and breathes; the slow dragged sound a loud unwelcome ringing in Erik’s head.

“Erik, you smell good.” Charles nuzzles, one hand coming up to cup Erik’s face while the other steadies himself on the armrests of the chair.

Erik could slap himself for the way his body reacts. While Charles drowned himself in Erik’s scent, lips barely touching skin, Erik unconsciously rolls his head to the side, body acting on instinct. Charles is a fucking tease, hot breath tickling the sensitive skin under Erik’s ear. Charles’ hand moves from the side of Erik’s face to the back of the man’s head, fingers threading through the short strands and tugging with much more pressure than Erik expected. Erik’s neck is exposed, and this time, Charles leans down to lick a wet stripe from the man’s collar bone to the shell of his ear, where he kisses and skilfully nibbles until Erik is gasping for breath and choking down his groan.

“Charles…”

 _Stop, stop it right now._ Erik thinks loudly what he can’t say.

If Charles hears Erik’s thoughts, he isn’t doing anything about it. Charles is moving with ferocity and fervour, both hands cupping Erik’s face as he harshly licks his way into Erik’s mouth, bites painfully into Erik’s lower lip until he tastes the copper tang of blood. Charles licks it away. He runs his tongue along the broken skin and kisses him with the urgency of a starving man and Erik feels like he’s drowning.

Erik sags into the chair and it dawns on him that he’s fighting a losing battle. He wants to leave, lock himself in his room, bar the door with barbed wire and wait the whole thing out like he’s always done for every heat cycle. It’s just like a fever, the sweating and panting and burning of his body. If he leaves now, he could make a run for it, chain the front door and wait for it to blow over. But Charles’ lips are hot against his, his teeth biting possessive red marks at Erik’s neck with his hands curled tight into Erik’s shirt. Erik doesn’t know how to walk away, and in reality he just wants to cry with relief because of how good it all is. He wants it entirely, needs the contact he has denied himself for so long for fear of being claimed. It’s only when Charles presses a knee against the bulge of Erik’s pants that Erik almost loses himself. He throws his head back and moans, the sound bouncing off the walls of the apartment.

Charles laughs. And that mockery snaps him out of the train wreck lust trance. Erik gets up with a growl and roughly shoves Charles back, wishing, in all honesty, that there were stairs behind the man that he could throw him down.

“Don’t touch me,” Erik bites out.

“Erik… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t – I can’t—” Charles staggers towards him and Erik shoves him even harder this time, causing Charles to hit the floor and land on his side. Did Charles not understand what he was saying, was he not speaking the same damned language?

“Don’t touch me, Charles,” he warns. “I don’t want to hurt you. You know what I can do, you’ve seen it. You don’t want me to hurt you, you really don’t.”

Charles sits up, one hand held up in front of him in the manner of yielding. And then he says, “And you won’t want _me_ to hurt _you_.”

That does it for Erik. Before he knows it, his fists are twisted into the front of Charles’ shirt and Charles is thrown against the wall so hard he chokes with the force of air leaving his lungs. An outstretched hand calls out all three metal paper weights from the table. Erik melts them into liquid, coils them tight around Charles’ wrists and pulls both hands up above him, embedding the metal into the wall like an unbreakable bond.

Charles’ hair is tousled and the top few buttons of his shirt are lost. He gives the metal bonds an experimental tug, grunting a little when they don’t budge.

“You know it’s not going to work.” Erik dares a smirk. The cuffs are perfectly moulded and completely seamless; they won’t be coming off anytime soon.

“I know it won’t. But it doesn’t hurt to try,” Charles huffs, blowing his fringe from his face and away from his eyes.

“You know, I’m just wondering,” Charles licks his reddened lips, “you’re awfully fluid in your actions. Do you do this often? Have a lot of practice ripping people’s shirts open and chaining them to walls? Must be more than a few times now, if I’m correct. Or have you been practicing on yourself? Coiling the metal tight around your wrists and pretending you can’t control your powers while you let the other fuck you senseless?”

“I’ve never—” _How dare you._ “You could easily take that information out from my head couldn’t you? You’re the telepath here.”

It must amuse Charles to hear the contradiction in his voice; the low, forced calmness when he speaks and the too tight pants he’s still wearing. His arousal straining cruelly in its confinements.

“Yes, I could. But as we both know, you’ve been deliberately hiding certain information from both myself and other telepaths. And I’ve only begun to— Ah… Emma Frost.” Charles smiles, knowingly. “She is a terribly remarkable woman with a penchant for trading favours. Although, for her to have taught you that, to teach you to build mental walls…you do know her skills come at a price, don’t you? I’m not quite sure it’s going to be worth it in the long run.” Charles is not at all cynical nor is he threatening, he’s merely stating a fact, his tone immaculate.

Erik’s blood boils within him. The decision was his to make, and Charles has no right to judge him for it. Emma made an offer, and Erik took it. He and Charles had been close since college. He considered them to be good friends. Charles was someone Erik trusted, and was the last person that should have been judging him. Erik was also skinnier back then. Tall, but thin and lanky. He was all bones and skin and one look at his ID gave him away.

He didn’t want to be an Omega, no one wanted to. It wasn’t his choice to be born that way. And then there was Charles, with his even smaller build and young boyish face, who was fortunate enough to be born as an Alpha. It wasn’t fair. Who the fuck gave him the right to judge Erik for what he chose to do?

Charles’ gaze softens. “Oh, Erik. I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, I would never… If only I had known, I would have offered my help too.”

Charles was pitying him, his voice soft and gentle as though Erik would break with pressure. Erik won’t accept that.

Erik comes right up into Charles’ space, body practically touching, but not quite. The heat between them is driving him insane and Erik wants nothing more than to press himself flush against the smaller male, rub against him, mixing their scents together.

“I don’t need your help,” he lets out a heavy breath, “I didn’t want you to know, I didn’t want anyone to know. I don’t need your help, and I never will. So you can take whatever sympathy you have and shove it down your throat.” His gaze never leaves Charles’. Intimidation can be your friend, and Erik makes use of it the best he knows how.

Erik is fully aware of how contradictory the entire situation is. On one hand, he is growling off Charles’ advances, and on the other, his body is still producing slick, his breath growing more laboured by the second. He feels hot, like his skin is burning and itching all at once. He needs to get home, right now. And just as he turns to leave, Charles wraps his legs around Erik’s lithe waist and pulls him in. Erik lets out a surprised gasp as Charles grinds down, rolls his hips against Erik’s with such skill Erik’s eyes disappear into the back of his head. He doesn’t even realize the world is spiralling before him, and when he blinks the haziness away, he finds himself lying flat on his back, glancing up at Charles’ flushed and excited face, a smile stretched wide across it.

“Fuck.” Erik pants, twisting his wrists from under Charles’ grip.

“Stronger than you expected, huh?” Charles gives him his best boyish grin.

A flick of Erik’s right wrist and something clamps down on Charles’ right foot, dragging him off Erik. Charles lets out a startled yelp. No sooner has Charles pulled the darned thing off then Erik is on him again, and this time it is Charles staring up at a partially irritated but most definitely turned on Erik.

“I don’t want this, Charles. I don’t have time for this,” Erik snaps, his fringe falling out of place.

Charles proceeds to ignore him and surreptitiously slithers into Erik’s mind. “Your control falters when you’re excited. We’ll have to work on that.” Charles taps into Erik’s head and forces him to release his grip. A second later he clutches Erik’s face with both hands and kisses him with a growl of triumph, tilting his head to part his lips, pushing his tongue inside, stealing every shocked moan he gets in return. Charles is cruel and selfish, biting into Erik’s bottom lip, already swollen and glistening with saliva. He listens to the ragged breaths Erik lets out through his nose and allows a warm hand to make its way to the bulge of Erik’s pants, palming it. The desperate moan Erik makes is devoured by Charles, a visible shudder running through him. Erik can feel him smiling against his own lips.

Charles makes quick work of rolling them over again so that he is once more on top of Erik. This time when Erik reels back to throw a punch, he finds himself immobile. With outstretched fingers, he reaches for the familiar sensation of metal particles but nothing comes to him and Erik’s pupils dilate, a frightening thought waking in its place. _No one’s coming to rescue me._

Charles smirks much too proudly and he’s so smug and dominating Erik finds he cannot decide whether he hates him or finds him incredibly sexy.

“I can make this good for you, Erik. Let me take care of you, I’ll make you feel so good.” Charles mouths his way down Erik’s neck, planting feathery kisses that make Erik’s toes curl with dread and anticipation. A hand rucks his shirt up, and when Charles rolls one nipple between deft fingers, Erik’s breath hitches.

Charles cups Erik’s arousal through his pants, palming him lazily with not a care in the world. Erik trembles beneath Charles’ body, his fingers scrambling into the carpeted floor clawing into it, imagining it was Charles’s skin he’s digging into; he wants his nails to split the man’s lightly dusted freckled skin, drawing enough blood to permanently remind him Erik was still a man who could put up a fight.

“Charles I—I don’t want this.” It was a surprise he was even able to finish his sentence.

Charles kisses him again. It works to shut him up, allowing Charles to continue rubbing their erections together through the constraints of their pants.

“Shh... let me take care of you. I won’t hurt you, you know that.” Charles smiles at him, a soft warm glow of fondness engulfing Erik’s mind, wrapping around his body until Erik feels himself sighing into it.

Charles laughs, his own control slipping. He sends all sorts of filthy images to Erik: Erik on all fours, tears streaming down his face as Charles tongues his hole, kisses it raw and red. Erik naked in Charles’ lap, finger fucked until he begs for Charles to take him, to use him as he pleases. Erik tied down by his own powers, given entirely to Charles, trusting him to pleasure him as his body clenches around Charles cock, pulsing ribbons of cum into him.

Yes. Yes, he wanted it all. Wanted to feel the burn, the pain, the pleasure and the warmth. Needed to be fucked until he lost all sense of control, couldn’t even breathe, could barely think. God, how he’s waited for it. And now he was going to get it, finally.

Erik doesn’t know how he got to the bedroom, or how his shirt had gotten lost in the midst of it all. He vaguely remembers forcefully destroying the remaining buttons of Charles’ shirt and getting a hearty chuckle in return. Somewhere in between he shouts at Charles and threatens that if he dares do anything other than vigorously fuck into him, he would throw himself out the window and plunge to his death. Charles just laughs at that, and bites hard into Erik’s shoulder blades, sending electrifying shivers straight to Erik’s leaking erection.

It’s a wonder they both manage to get out of their pants. Erik is flat on his stomach with Charles on top of him. Erik’s ready, he has been producing slick since the very beginning. He needs Charles to fuck him, right this very moment. Take him hard, raw. He wants the pain.

“Get on all fours.” Charles purrs, and Erik grunts in surprise when Charles reaches under to lift him by his hips.

_Yes, fuck me Charles, fuck into me like you said you would._

“Patience, Erik.” Charles caresses him, slow and gentle, touching his sides, sliding a hand up his torso and another wrapping around Erik’s cock, squeezing, teasing out whimpers.

God, how ironic is that? Only a moment ago Charles was the one so eager and excitable, and now he was telling Erik to be patient?

“I-if you don’t fuck me soon… I’ll go downstairs and find someone who will,” Erik manages through staggered breaths.

He regrets it almost immediately when a rush of irritation and annoyance plunders into his mind and he cannot help but feel guilty for it. He pretends not to care, he’s the one in charge here, and he could easily turn the entire situation around. Charles wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on him if he chose not to allow him.

“Charles, I swear… if you don’t do something, anything, I’m going to— _Ah!”_  

Charles’ tongue breaches Erik’s hole. He licks his way inside him, pushing in and out with erratic timing, leaving Erik no possible way of predicting what Charles might do next. Erik’s thighs quiver from the feeling of Charles’ tongue lapping up the slick from his inner thighs.

“Who’s in charge? You, was it?” Charles smacks Erik’s arse, delighting in the way Erik’s back arches. He nuzzles his cheek against Erik’s lower back, presses his thumb into Erik’s hole and relishes in the wet, tight heat around it.

“Have you any idea how good you smell, how wonderful you taste?” Charles pulls his thumb out and plunges two fingers in, pressing inside, stretching Erik open.

Erik’s body trembles with the heady smell of sweat, pheromones and his own slick permeating the air, his senses driving him up the wall. And the fact that Charles’ emotions are pouring into him without restraint—Charles thought it was absolutely gorgeous how he panted like a virgin when he only had two fingers inside him—couldn’t wait to get three, four fingers inside, his entire cock pushed into him, balls deep. Erik’s eyes roll back in his head, his arms no longer have the strength to support him and he presses his torso into the sheets, his face turning to the side lest he suffocate.

 “You’re so beautiful like this. I want to build you up and take you apart, claim you as mine.” A third finger is added. “You’re so wet and ready, look at how your body practically swallows it all up. I’ll bet you could take a whole fist and it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Charles...oh god.” Tears fall from his eyes and soak into the sheets. Charles is a cruel man.

“No, I’m not. I promised to take care of you, and I will. I’ll make it good.” A fourth finger, the pleasure sharply turning into pain. “Relax, you just need to trust me.”

And Erik does. He forces himself to relax, focusing on the rhythmic ticking of the alarm clock by the cabinet. He listens to the silent screech of metal pipes running through the entire building, reaching out to wind his hands around the metal bed frame curling to tie around each wrist separately.

Charles groans at the sight laid out before him. Erik breathless and glassy-eyed with tears, the skin on his back decorated with a light sheen of sweat, his legs spread out so wide, all for him. All of it, for Charles to take. Every last bit of Erik, Charles’.

Charles can take no more; he flips Erik over, willing the metal binding Erik’s wrists to turn along with him. Looming over him, he watches Erik lick his lips in preparation and gapes at the sight of his lean throat, his arms pulled high above his head, muscles taut and straining.

 _Please._ Erik’s voice in his head is cracked and broken.

Charles takes his cock in his hand, uses the remains of Erik’s own slick to give himself a good few strokes before positioning the engorged crown at Erik’s entrance, dipping in just a little and then pulling out, teasing him. Then, as Erik decides to beg, Charles hooks Erik’s strong thighs over his shoulders and pushes, the entire length of his cock piercing into Erik with one smooth unrestrained thrust, opening up his passage, relishing in the way Erik’s body bends with such ease.

A strangled moan tears from Erik’s throat, raw and burning. The metal surrounding his hands wind around each finger tighter and tighter as Charles picks up the pace, with Erik shivering at the hit and miss of Charles’ cock against his prostate. Erik loves and hates it, can hardly decide if he wants Charles to go deeper or scream in agony at the way he’s being stretched wide open. He ends up rolling his hips along with the man above him.

“Charles… Charles….” Erik cannot help the way he loses control and the metal alarm clock by the cabinet begins to quake gently where it sits. The metal buttoned drawers rattling in their fixed space. Little metallic objects, wrist watches, the table lamp, every magnetic item he can get a hold of, all shaking, slowly lifting into the air with each continuous thrust, until the entire apartment is groaning with fervour.

Charles snaps his hips, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin amplified by the wet squelch of his own slick flowing from his hole, allowing Charles’ member to be pulled out almost entirely before plunging back into the glorious warm heat.

Somewhere in between Charles plunges into Erik’s mind, the tendrils of his reach filling up every crevice, every corner, engulfing Erik completely.

_You’re so beautiful, Erik. Exquisite little thing that you are. I would keep you forever, fill you up and make you mine. Lovely, man. Mine._

“You’re lovely when you’re crying. I’ll take care of you, keep you safe. Be mine.”

Erik isn’t even sure about the nature of that last sentence, whether it was a question or a command. But how could he say no, when Charles gazed at him the way he did, found him more beautiful than any other.

“Yes. Yours, always yours. Forever,” he sobs.

Charles manoeuvres Erik’s thighs so that they are wrapped tightly around the man’s waist. And then Charles drives into Erik, rubs against the walls of his channel until Erik is screaming, begging him to go deeper. It’s with a final unexpectedly hard thrust against his prostate that Erik at last feels himself tipping over, gasping and panting Charles’ name as pleasure wrecks his entire system, his body clenching down onto the man’s hardened cock. Erik whimpers as Charles continues to rub brutally inside him.

Charles thrusts into Erik a few more times and spills into him, his load spurting into Erik’s body in pulses, growling out Erik’s name as he does.

Charles slumps against Erik, both their bodies sticky with sweat. He breaths into Erik’s neck, kisses him there and licks off the sweat under his chin, gently dips his tongue into Erik’s mouth and feels Erik reach out to do the same, their heated breath intertwining together. Charles tangles his fingers into the unruly wet curls of Erik’s hair and Erik lets the metal slither away from his grasp, fine tunes them back to their original shape.

When they break apart for air, Charles buries his face into the crook of Erik’s neck. Charles fumbles around for a bit, pushing Erik to his side so that they can both lie down.

For a moment, Erik feels like he should say something. Even worse, he feels like he should say something completely ridiculous and stupid. Something along the lines of ‘I love you.’

Except, Erik is an irritable man, and he had just been fucked raw and hard. Humiliated and embarrassed because Charles found it adorable a man of Erik’s build and image would turn out to be an Omega. And finally, made to feel thoroughly inadequate because Charles could so conveniently break down the mental walls he had so painstakingly built. Not to mention the fact that Charles had complimented him on his beauty, and said he’d take care of him for life. That Erik belonged to Charles forever.

So, he simply settles for, “I hate you.”

And Charles replies with, “I love you too.”

And Erik crawls further onto Charles, sighing into the warmness of the man’s chest while his body lay enveloped within Charles protective embrace, the feather touches of fingers tracing patterns down his spine. With the contented hum of post-coital inertia thrumming inside him and a deep seated ache finally satisfied, Erik decides he’ll think of the consequences at a later time, when he isn’t so very exhausted and worn out, the knowing whisper of sleep calming his mind. For now, he’s happy and sated and he couldn’t care less about what happens next.


End file.
